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RIP Harry

Dogs have been on my mind a bit lately, and so I need to give a sad shoutout to my uncle's dog, a Tibetan terrier named Harrigan (or "Harry"), who was put to sleep this morning after a (fortunately) brief bout with cancer. I haven't yet found any of the pix I have of him, and I've never been able to remember his full Tibetan name, but he was a big part of the family for all of his 17 years, and I remember accompanying my parents and my uncle and aunt to pick him up at the breeders' farm in Chester County, PA, not far from the family manse.

I don't exactly recall if Harry spent his first night at said manse (I was home from college simply to meet the puppy, and I probably headed back to the city to write a paper tear things up) or whether they continued on to NYC right away. But many is the time I was on my aunt and uncle's sofabed, peacefully sleeping the morning away, when Harry was encouraged to hop up wake me.

I hope you finally get to keep all the chew-socks everyone took away from you, Harry.


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Comments (4)


Yes, pictures when you find them, please!

This is a sad thing, for sure. But as Brad always says whenever we contemplate that sad day, "they live short lives, but good ones, full ones."


Oh, Harry. There are unlimited chew socks and tennis balls and bacon strips in doggie heaven.

(This is especially sad because my dog at home with my parents is almost 16. And she has trouble getting up into the car and walking up steps now, when she used to run crazily all over the place. Poor Prancer.)

Bah...so sad.

I tremble at this (inevitable?) day for our dogs. I try not to overly humanize them in the sense that it will distance them from my ideas of pain and loss...but it's hard.

For instance: last night as we were out doing the club thing, I fretted much about how the dogs were home, alone, in the sunroom for 5+ hours (after being in said room for most the day as well). How would I like it? I'd hate it.

However, in their infinite awesomeness, as soon as I came home, all was forgotten in a sea of wagging, jumping, and running in circles. All my supposed transgressions were...forgotten, if they were there at all.

Is that about death? Not really, but I agree with the good and full lives sentiment.

Bacon strips! Man. He'd love that. Apparently during his last days Harry was allowed to clean all the plates he wanted.

Dogs are really pretty amazing in this sense. They don't remember the little transgressions, like being left alone for a few hours. There's no pretense, just enthusiasm when you come back (after 5 hours or 5 minutes), or offer a lap or throw a ball. They remember the big stuff (good and bad), which makes a lot more sense.

That chaotic welcoming-back is almost fun enough (from what I remember with my own dog) to leave just to cause it.

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